


Sun Damage

by strideordie



Category: Homestuck
Genre: :(, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Drug Abuse, Drug Dealing, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, Foster Care, I am so sorry, I really am, M/M, Multi, Sibling Incest, Suicide, Trichotillomania, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, at the very end, drug overdose, im so sorry, no smut but implied sex, ok so, so like, sorry - Freeform, the only ACTUAL healthy relationship is like, whoops :(
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 16:58:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8808700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strideordie/pseuds/strideordie
Summary: The past, present, and future of three brothers growing up and learning the best (and worst) ways to cope.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is gonna b a series! well try to update every week :0

chapter 1

 

September 23, 2008

 

It was sunny in Houston. What a surprise. Dirk couldn’t remember a day when the sun didn’t beat down in between the cracks in the sidewalk that he stomped over on his way home from school. Freshman year didn’t feel any different than before; there was still the same sidewalk, the same vulgar sun. If anything, he felt older, seated in his skin, as if a month in the Texas public high school system made him age a few years. Maybe it was just that he felt the need to be older and to get his shit at least somewhat united. That his actions suddenly had an affect on his future. He stared ahead at the sundered dirt on the side of the concrete, his thoughts rattling in his head in time with the familiar cadence of his sneakers hitting the sidewalk. He’d almost forgotten Jake was next to him.

 

It had been awhile since he’d walked with anyone, since his brother Dave had his own friends he never really got along all that well with. Dirk liked to get lost in the apathy he forced down his own throat, firmly swearing that it didn’t bother him. He wasn’t expecting him to not have a life outside of their family; he was always just a little jealous of Dave’s ability to fraternize. Dirk was inherently shitty at hobnobbing. Middle school passed him by on the hinges of a carousel, faces of his acquaintances blurred with the roundabout motion of years in school. Not that he meant to be passive. His anxiety was, of course, at fault.

 

When Jake moved during the first week of school to Houston from some island in the middle of the Pacific (he could never remember the name), Dirk was fluent in the overwhelm that the boy must have felt, so he decided to make it his mission to befriend him. Jake was an enigma, a constantly-puzzling anomaly; the more he learned about him the more amused he was. Dirk had never felt closer to someone that wasn’t part of his immediate family, which was fucking pathetic, because they had known each other for a grand total of 3 weeks. Jake had a way of making him feel like they’d known each other for a lifetime, and he didn’t mind the sudden attention, even making it a habit to walk him home everyday. Sometimes they would talk, sometimes Jake would just ramble, or sometimes it would just meander in the comfortable quiet. Dirk looked over at him, the sun beaming down on his tan, freckled shoulders, eyes darting around excitedly as if he’d never seen the world before. He was always smiling this contagious smile that made Dirk want to smile too. Jake turned to face him, green eyes meeting his confidently, but not in any way intimidating, both stopping outside Dirk’s building. 

 

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Jake said, grabbing the door to hold it open for him. He was always such a gentleman and Dirk wondered if he was making a conscious effort to be so painfully considerate.

 

“Yeah. Message me when you get home.” Oh, shit, did that sound too on-the-nose? “About the chem homework you needed help with, I mean.” Dirk didn’t understand why he was fumbling over his words. Usually he was so involuntarily relaxed talking to Jake; it felt so natural. So why had their recent interactions left the tinny blockage of anxiety building up in the back of his throat? He wanted to punch himself in the face for overthinking everything so much.

 

“Of course,” Jake looks down for a second, putting himself together before he faces Dirk again, “Say, we’ve never rendez-vous’d outside of school, and I’ve never met your family! I’m not doing anything afterschool, well, ever. Maybe sometime I could-”

 

“Not right now, Jake.“ Suddenly he was stiff again, standing tall in front of the stairs up to his building as if it housed some alien discomfort that could seep through Jake’s skin if he got any closer. His declination was a knee-jerk reaction, but it was painfully obvious how taken aback Jake was by what could have easily been misconstrued as hostility. “I mean, I would love to. Why don’t we go somewhere more interesting, though?” As tumultuous as Dirk’s train of thought was, he managed to smooth the wrinkles in his tone, melting the flow of gravel from his throat into something more fluid and easily comprehensible. It was something he’d gotten pretty good at. After a moment or two’s hesitation he continues “We’ll have to hang out soon, bro. Only so much we can talk about on this lame walk, right?” he says quickly, looking back up at him. To Dirk’s relief, his answer had elicited a wide grin from Jake, which he couldn’t help but return.

 

“Sounds like a plan, then,” Jake exclaimed, opening the door to the ground floor of his complex for him. “Have a good night then, chap. See you tomorrow?” 

 

Dirk trudged inside with a small statement of agreement before Jake waved him goodbye. After a few seconds he turned to watch Jake make his way down the sidewalk again, enthusiasm spreading through the pavement in ripples with every purposed step he took. On the way up to his flat Dirk blamed the giddy somersaults his stomach performed on the jangling movements of the elevator.

 

The Strider family apartment smelled like pot. More than usual. Dirk took it as a greeting from his brother, knowing Dave must be home as he dropped his backpack into a pile of various clutter accumulated near the door (materials for Dirk’s various welding projects, a practice katana, the disembodied head of an old robot, etc.). The noise made Dave turn from where he was planted on the couch, bong secured carefully between his knees. Of course. 

 

“Dave, goddamn it.”

 

“Nice to see you too,” Dave said, and Dirk could practically hear him rolling his eyes from behind his shades. He set down the bong gingerly on the coffee table and Dirk was suddenly aware of the amount of smoke blurring his vision. Dave had definitely just hotboxed their living room.

 

“Why can’t you just smoke in your own room?” Dirk asked, dropping himself limply onto the couch, the book he needed to finish for English in hand (Like Water For Chocolate. So far, he’s completely invested in the drama.) He leaned on Dave’s side, propping his legs up to take up the rest of the space on the couch, opening the book with no intentions of actually starting to read. 

 

“Because I feel depressing as shit alone in my room when y’all aren’t home,” Dave countered, grabbing the bong again and finishing off his bowl. “That’s mighty presumptuous. I think I have a right to hang out in the living room of my home, Dirk, why do you care?” he coughs, angling his projectile cloud of cannabis in Dirk’s direction.

 

“I don’t particularly like how it smells, is all.”

 

“You smoke more weed on the daily than I’ve ever smoked in my entire life.”

 

“Whatever,” Dirk said, picking his book back up from his chest. He could probably finish the thing in two or three hours, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to procrastinate the whole ordeal.

 

“Isn’t that the one where they rub junk on a horse?” Dave examined, leaning over to look at the warm painting plastered over the cover of the book. Dirk elbowed him. 

 

“Probably. I’m only about ankles-deep into this shitshow but that’s definitely a scene that would happen.” There’s an unneeded sharpness to his tone; frankly, Dirk thought the novel was beautiful. But there was something septic about his brother’s air of indifference that made him need to feign the same disregard. “Right now I’m at the part where the cook dies because she wants to get dicked down so hard that it gives her a heart attack.”

 

Dave snorted, kicking his heels onto the coffee table and setting the bong aside with an enate pat. “Enjoy your trip. It’s truly a literary classic of our time.” Dirk couldn’t tell if Dave was being entirely sarcastic but he didn’t have time to linger on the thought, as his brother was leaning his weight into him. Dave was warm and smelled like laundry detergent and it made Dirk realize how tired he was. It was only five, but he hadn’t slept since Sunday and felt perfectly content with the idea of dozing off right there with his cheek pressed to Dave’s shoulder. It was a welcome respite, since most of the time his anxiety kept him puttering around for days without any sleep, but when it was just him and Dave home sleep didn’t feel so malignant. His eyes drifted shut as it dawned on him that he was going to get no work done, and he gracelessly discarded the book and his shades to the coffee table. The stale smoke undulating through the walls of their small living room buzzed softly in Dirk’s head and it was easy to shut down. He shifted to his side, nuzzling further into Dave. It was humid without the windows open (and without an AC unit) but Dave’s warmth still felt inviting and not the slightest bit uncomfortable. 

 

“Mhm, I will,” Dirk mumbled idly, slipping into sleep. Dave didn’t seem to mind, and Dirk was vaguely aware of him grabbing the remote from the edge of their couch to turn on one of his awful telenovelas with the volume barely above a buzzing drone so as not to disturb him. He processed the dialogue in corners of his mind until his cognizance became too heavy and it faded into the warmth of sleep.

 

\--

 

September 23, 2001

 

It was sunny in Houston. Dirk and his brother were out again, marching aimlessly from block to block while their older bro was at school for some volunteer event. They had nothing better to do than wander with the intention of becoming acquainted with every inch of the outskirts of their city, exploring abandoned houses like castles waiting to be conquered. They were a mature eight, never straying too far away from their group home, but no one would notice when they slipped out to explore. It felt exciting every time, even though sometimes they would just sit on the sidewalk outside the house and squash ants. Once in a while Dave would take one of the older kids’ camera and they would take turns snapping pictures of pretty trees or dilapidated buildings. And sometimes they’d just walk until they found an empty lot to lay down and look at clouds in. 

 

Dirk had fallen through the old porch step of an old vacant house Dave had an affinity for, scratching up his leg pretty bad in the process. Dave asked if he wanted to go home but he said it was fine, that he wanted to keep exploring. It was interesting enough to look at all the things that had been left behind, everything laid out perfectly as it was waiting to be discovered. Neither of them ever took anything, of course, but they spent hours looking through bedrooms, contemplating who must’ve lived there. It was a good way to kill time, if anything. Dirk made sure they didn’t go into any excessively sketchy buildings, and that they always made it back home before dark. Even though Dave was only an hour younger, Dirk still liked the idea of being the older brother out of the two. (Bro obviously outranked him overall, but someone had to be responsible for the both of them while he was out doing whatever it was he did. Or when he spent the night in jail- he never really got around to explaining why to them, just that they wouldn’t understand, which was valid.) 

 

They must have been gone for hours, Dave leading their way further into the old house. It was easy to lose track of time with the windows all boarded up, but Dirk had a bad feeling this particular night. Dave had told him that it was just his incessant worrying, as per usual, but he really didn’t want to have to walk home through their town once night had fallen.

 

“Dave, can we just check outside that it isn’t dark?” he sighed, shining his wind-up keychain flashlight over his shoulder as Dave rummaged devotedly through old family photos. 

 

Dirk was rewarded with a groan and a shrug. “Stop being such a baby. We’re fine,” he said, squinting to make out the date on the back of an envelope of pictures. “I’m in the middle of something important,” he added. He was always so focused and invested in their house explorations. Dirk, on the other hand, just thought the houses looked pretty cool.

 

“Can you just put down your dumb pictures for one dumb second pleeaassseee,” Dirk whined, winding up the flashlight some more as it started to flicker out. His voice was shrill and teetering on the edge of panic. Dave grumbled and begrudgingly dropped a stack of pictures, glaring at Dirk as he wiped the dust from his hands on his brother’s sleeve.

 

“Fine, whatever,” Dave said, giving in to the inevitable cycle of easing Dirk’s nerves. They hurried down the hall, careful not to step on rat turds but otherwise with more abandon than before. Dave gave his brother a look, taking hold of the hole where a doorknob once sat to swing it backward. “See? We’re perfectly-”

 

It was pitch black outside.

 

\--

 

September 23, 2008

 

Dirk woke up, jackknifing up to the sound of metal clattering on the laminate floor on the other side of his bedroom wall, followed by muffled cursing and the front door slamming. He pulled his covers over his head, not remembering where he was for a moment. Had Dave carried him into his room? He was lanky and thin but Dirk’s underestimated his strength before. Or maybe he’d plodded in and passed out after Dave eventually roused him. He guessed it didn’t really matter, and that he probably wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep again if he was already lucid enough to be overthinking something so trivial. He checked his clock, putting on his glasses so he could actually see the numbers. 4AM. The abradant stomping down the hall was probably Bro’s, then, and his suspicions were confirmed as he heard the weighted fall of his boots stop at the very end of the hall where his room was.

 

Dirk tossed his legs over the side of his bed, rubbing his eyes under his glasses and cracking his neck until he was satisfied with the popping sound it made. He could start to get ready for school, but then Bro would hear him and he didn’t want to risk the possibility of an interaction with him this early. Nothing his older brother ever said felt like it was sincere. There was always some kind of subtext, as if he knew how shitty Dirk was at picking up on it and was plastering it out into their conversations on purpose. He didn’t know what to do with himself until he was sure that Bro was asleep and he could take a shower and fuck around with his hair for an hour. There was no one to talk to and no projects he could work on without waking up his brothers and he sure as hell wasn’t just going to stew with his thoughts until 6 am. 

 

His eyes fell on the book Dave must have dumped on the floor of his room after he went to bed. Shit, he thought, might as well. Turning on his work lamp, he leaned back in his rigid swivel chair and absently began Chapter 2 of Like Water For Chocolate.

 

TT: You’re right.  
TT: This is absolute literary genius.

 

Two hours later, it was sunny in Houston again and Dirk and Dave drank black coffee from solo cups on the fire escape and didn’t have anything to say. Neither of them were fully present any time before noon and the only conversation they could make was to let their eyes follow the dusty, rounded blocks they must’ve travelled down at some point as kids with their eyes far below them. They could already feel the sun beat down on the backs of their necks as they quietly shut the door on their way out, making sure to not wake up the light sleeper that their older brother was. Dave led the way down the stale sidewalk in the pallid sunrise, casting long shadows in front of them without the light of Dirk’s old wind-up keychain flashlight and the promise of wandering in and out of the boarded up brick buildings they had seen too many times until they got to school and went their separate ways, and Dirk was alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> im so sorry


End file.
